


The Dream of the Fish-Man's Waif

by akatonbo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Tentacles, Dream Sex, M/M, PWP, Sirens, Tentacle Bondage, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akatonbo/pseuds/akatonbo
Summary: He lifts his head to look down their bodies, and where he expects to see the powerful, silvery fish tail, instead Valjean has a mass of... appendages, bluish green like the seawater, as long as his tail was, thick as a man's thigh where they join his body but tapering down to slender tips. Four of them are wound around his legs, one above and one below each knee, holding them down to the waterlogged planks beneath him.
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40
Collections: The Great Valvert Tentacle-Off





	The Dream of the Fish-Man's Waif

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ceiling of Amber, Pavement of Pearl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876409) by [TheLifeOfEmm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeOfEmm/pseuds/TheLifeOfEmm). 

> I would apologize for the terrible, terrible pun, but I'm not sorry. (Naturally, I'm using 'waif' in the sense of someone who has been rescued, rather than in the sense of a skinny girl.) The reference is practically obligatory.
> 
> I would say that this barely qualifies as mildly dubious consent; it's a dream that is clearly described as a dream, and Javert is into it. He just doesn't bother dreaming about Valjean politely inviting him to have tentacle bondage sex. ;)
> 
> Also, I suppose it'd be set between chapters 11 and 12 of Ceiling of Amber, Pavement of Pearl, based on when I wrote most of it and what Javert's subconscious is up to.

Javert is dreaming, or at least, he thinks he is dreaming. He doesn't remember how he got here. That's probably a point in favor of dreaming. 

He is lying on his back, at the edge of the raft; his feet are in the water, he thinks. (His feet are... indistinct, far away. That, too, suggests dreaming.) Valjean's hands pin his wrists to the decking beneath him, and when he struggles to test the siren's grip, he cannot move them at all. It is... he does not know what it is. It should be... frightening, galling, _something_. (It should not be... thrilling. No, that is not the right word, the way he feels is too... languorous for anything to thrill him. But it is something like that.) 

Valjean mouths at his collarbone, slow and with a hint of sharp teeth, and Javert shivers. He doesn't remember how he got here... if he doesn't remember, he could have agreed to it. Might have. If this is real. Valjean's mouth finds a place that makes him gasp, and he is ashamed of the sound that comes out of his mouth after that, a reedy whine, his body arching under Valjean.

If he is dreaming... then his desire, too, is only a dream, is it not?

Valjean's hands pin his wrists, but then, too, Valjean has his legs pinned down and apart, strong limbs holding them, and that is... he doesn't understand. Valjean does not have _legs_, and his tail... he has but one tail, and even if he had two legs, the way he is held feels... it does not feel like legs weighing his down.

Javert lifts his head to look down their bodies, and where he expects to see the powerful, silvery fish tail, instead Valjean has a mass of... appendages, bluish green like the seawater, as long as his tail was, thick as a man's thigh where they join his body but tapering down to slender tips. Four of them are wound around his legs, one above and one below each knee, holding them down to the waterlogged planks beneath him. Along each one are two lines of clinging suckers that he can see and, now that he understands what they are, feel as they grasp at his skin. 

His legs are bare... he is nude, he realizes. That sort of selective awareness is surely another sign he is dreaming. (For that matter, so is the fact that Valjean has gone from being half fish to being half... some sort of octopode? As if a siren were not already monstrous enough!)

He ought to be horrified, he thinks. He _wants_ to be horrified, but the way Valjean has him pinned is so... he feels completely under the siren's power, and that, too, should horrify him, should _terrify_ him. Instead it is dizzying... freeing. His prick is hard and aching, straining toward Valjean -- who, despite the way he has ahold of Javert, and the mouth lazily tasting his skin, has not touched him there.

Valjean looks up and meets his gaze, a thin ring of ice blue around wide, dark pupils. "Tell me you want this." His voice is rough and low. 

"I," Javert says. 

He _shouldn't_ want this. He shouldn't want any of the things this is. He doesn't even know what Valjean means by 'this' -- what he will do, if Javert says yes.

It's only a dream.

"Please," he says, breaking open completely, and no sooner has he said it than he feels another sinuous limb brush the inside of his thigh, just above his knee, and move upward. The suckers pull and release tender skin as they 'walk' up his leg, and Javert shifts, trying to arch his hips, but cannot find leverage or purchase to do anything but flail in Valjean's grasp. 

"I see how you look at me," Valjean murmurs. His mouth ghosts up Javert's throat now, so gentle that he cannot bear it, at odds with the challenge in his words. "How you looked at me even when you had me in chains. How your eyes grew dark when you fed me with your own hand, even though my lips only touched your glove and not your skin."

"Bewitchment," Javert protests weakly, reflexively, as if he has not just entreated Valjean to touch him in some unspecified way, as if he does not know that, if he _had_ been bewitched, Valjean could easily have charmed him into setting him free, and then fled far from the _Surveillante_. 

The tentacle snaking up his leg reaches the joint of his hip, tracing back and forth along the valley there, and Javert draws in a sharp, shaky breath. "Please," he repeats. 

Valjean raises himself up to loom over him, staring avidly at the picture he must make. He must want, too; Javert thinks to say so, but the words stick in his throat. "Tell me," Valjean says. "Tell me what you want. Or I will do nothing."

Javert does not know what he wants.

Not knowing, however, does not stop him from wanting it. His prick curves flushed and full on his stomach, reaching up toward the body above him as he watches. Gooseflesh prickles on his skin. He does not even know what Valjean might find pleasure in doing to him. 

"I could hold you down like this for hours," Valjean adds, and Javert groans. That is... indescribably arousing, but also he thinks he might die if that is all Valjean does. 

"Do with me what you will," he pleads, "only touch me."

If Valjean makes some reaction, he does not know, because the tentacle curls around his prick, and everything else is lost as all of his nerves sing with pleasure at once. It is a wonder he does not spend himself immediately, overwhelmed by the slick heat and pressure, the strangeness of being touched so intimately by so alien a thing... and the fact that, no matter how strange, it is _Valjean_ touching him. 

Javert thinks he must make some sort of embarrassing noise, and his hips rock up helplessly, thrusting his prick into that twining grasp. The suckers along one side of the tentacle grip and release his skin, maddeningly delicate and like nothing he has ever felt before. His wrists are still pinned to the deck below him by Valjean's weight and his strong hands, and though the tentacles wound around his legs have shifted to allow him the leeway to move his hips, he is still bound securely.

He cannot last. Frankly, it would have taken little more than Valjean's hand at the fork of his trousers to bring him near to the brink, and this is... there is no comparison. His panting breaths turn to ragged moans, and he trembles in Valjean's hold, spilling his seed in a bright and blinding rush of pleasure that blots out all his senses again.

When he comes back to himself, the first thing Javert notices is that he is no longer bound. He is sprawled out on his back like a starfish on the raft, all of his limbs free to move again. 

The second thing he notices is that his trousers are uncomfortably sticky, and suddenly he remembers _why_. 

Oh, _hell_.

He is also, mercifully, alone. His crew, as is their habit, have given him privacy to sleep, and Valjean, thank God, is nowhere in sight. He is not sure he could look the siren in the eye; his face heats even thinking about it. To imagine such a thing, even in a dream...

Surely there is no reason to think on it. Valjean does not have... tentacles. Nor, he tells himself firmly, does Valjean want to... to do any of the things he dreamed, regardless of anatomy. 

(Certainly his spent prick does not twitch just from remembering how his legs were held down and apart while his wrists were pinned, all by Valjean's doing.)

He rolls over and curls in on himself, half in shame and half simply trying to recover what composure he can. Who knows when Valjean might appear? He will put it out of his mind before then.

It was only a dream.

After a while of lying there, he pries himself up from the deck and crawls over to the edge of the raft. He looks around carefully, to be sure Valjean is not close by -- Javert does not _know_ if he would notice, but he does not care to find out. Once he is sure Valjean is not lurking, he slides off the edge of the raft into the water, and strips away his soiled trousers, swishing them around in the water to wash away the mess. They will be uncomfortable until they dry, but less uncomfortable than leaving them as they were. He scrubs awkwardly at himself as well, and then clambers back up onto the raft to wring out the trousers and put them, arduously, back on.

He will put it out of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not miss out on Hellen's fantastic [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297467); the third piece is the one that was based on this story as well as Emm's, and I can't stop looking at Javert's _legs_. *_*


End file.
